


two slow dancers, last ones out

by MSAF



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 22:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSAF/pseuds/MSAF
Summary: it would be a hundred times easier//if we were young againbut as it is, and it is//to think that we could stay the samebut we're two slow dancers, last ones out(Bedivere leaves for a better place and he regrets looking back.)
Relationships: Bedivere | Saber/Merlin | Caster
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	two slow dancers, last ones out

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted fic here in so long omg please don't read my old stuff AHAHAHA  
anyways here is some good merbedi for the merbedi tag!!! i got inspired by mitski's two slow dancers. pls listen to it you'll cry like me
> 
> anyways ummm special shout out to partridgeonapeartree!!! you cutie <3

Time had flown by so fast since graduation for Bedivere. Not that he thought it was a bad thing, but—

There was really something about connecting dates, wasn’t there? Years ago, today, he graduated from university. Here he was, years later, leaving the big city for his hometown. It’s not like he would be travelling to an entirely different country, but knowing everyone’s schedule, it’d be almost impossible to catch up. With Gawain’s (both sadly and hilariously) failing restaurant, Tristan’s tours around the country (and very soon out of, he heard), Lancelot and his children (how he adored little Mash and Galahad, sweet kids), and of course…

He swallows saliva, holds his breath, and lets out a sigh.

It was November 4th.

On this very same day, all those years ago, he had his first kiss—and, he thinks, his last.

_It was an overwhelming sensation._

He can still remember the high of joy, from gathering with everyone in their newly bought outfits, laughing and joking as though they hadn’t aged a year. When they held hands and proudly claimed that they would never separate. Just them and their little world, with their petty fights and their pure happiness, and nothing would ever break that.

_(And indeed, how good would it feel if they truly never drifted? Bedivere would never know now.)_

And he remembers his own flustered face, as he held Merlin’s hand. Fingers caressing knuckles, drunken giggles clouding his thoughts, as he swayed with him in the hall to the sound of music. It couldn’t be called dancing, no—They were both so _horrible_ at it. But they laughed and they smiled, and if that wasn’t dancing, then perhaps they were both mistaken.

He had never planned to get so close. He was okay with watching Merlin from afar, watching his escapades with women and his social media posts. Yes, he was okay with just that. He doesn’t think that he would fit well with Merlin, after all. They were two entirely different people, living two entirely different lives. He’s not even sure if such a relationship would work well. He thinks that it probably would have ended in a terrible break up, really. If anything, a prankster like Merlin would fit better with Gawain or even Artoria.

But never with himself, he thinks.

Just for one night, he had forgotten that hesitation. And ah, what a mistake that was.

Bedivere remembers sitting at a staircase landing with Merlin, his head upon the other’s shoulders. Warm and fuzzy… Was it from all the alcohol, or was it from Merlin’s arms holding him?

And he could remember, for a split second, their eyes had made contact. Then, lips connected. He doesn’t know what kisses should feel like, aside from the romantic comedies he’s watched… But those lips felt soft, and their tongues danced slow, gentle. Nothing like Bedivere has ever seen before. He thinks for a moment, ‘This must be a dream. It feels too good to be true.”

When they pull apart, Bedivere suddenly comes to his senses. He pushes Merlin back, with more force than he intended. Pink eyes look up at him—What was he feeling? Panic? Disappointment? And yet, he never bothered to stay to find out, because he ran like the coward he was. He ran and ran and ran. As far as he could, as far as his legs could last. He doesn’t know where he wants to go, but he knows he doesn’t want to be at the staircase landing with Merlin and his warm hands and his soft lips—

Bedivere doesn’t really speak to Merlin after that. He sees him in group outings, but he never exchanges more than a ‘hello’ and, perhaps, a few brushes of their hands—Or maybe he imagined that, because even after so long, he’s stupidly in love.

He thinks, maybe this awkward tension was for the best. It was much better than the idea of getting into a relationship with him and then crying over a break up. Maybe he would cheat on him. Maybe he wouldn’t be a good partner. Merlin didn’t exactly have a good reputation with women, after all. He should be glad. He missed a huge landmine. He avoided getting hit. This was the best ending he could get. Someday, he won’t be stupidly in love, and all this will be is just an awkward memory. Even if all of that didn’t come true, he was okay with this; this eternal pining. Things will just stay like this forever anyways.

And even when he tells himself that—

Why is it that his chest still aches with need?

.

Bedivere has his bags all packed. He’s ready to move out of his rented apartment. He says goodbye to his roommates, though he never talked to them, and says goodbye to the landlord, too. Then he makes a few much needed stops in the city before he goes to the airport.

In the morning, he visits Gawain’s restaurant, helped by his brothers and little sister. He chuckles at Agravain’s fuss, Gareth’s pouts, and Gawain’s boasts. Gaheris gives him a souvenir to bring back home; a polaroid of their last outing. He thanks them and leaves, feeling less heavy than he expected. Perhaps, talking to everyone for the potential last time wouldn’t be that bad.

In the afternoon, he meets Lancelot and little Mash and little Galahad in an ice cream parlour. He smiles at this loving family, even as the children tease and bully Lancelot. For some reason, jealousy pricks at the back of his mind. A happy family like this—he would love that, he thinks. Being able to nurse children up with his partner, enjoying life as it went. A partner…

He leaves the ice cream parlour with a wave, though his heart feels more bitter than ice cream should taste.

His meeting with Artoria is short. She, too, drifted away from everyone, in favour of hanging with a red haired man whose name he doesn’t remember. But she seemed happy and well. In fact, much happier than she was in the university. He’s glad.

“You’re always welcome to stay, no matter the hour,” She says, with a pat on his back. Then she turns to leave, her coat gently swaying with the wind.

His final destination before the airport is—

A scented candle shop named ‘Avalon’.

When Bedivere enters the store, the store bell rings gently. Yet, no one is here. It’s completely empty, save for the shopkeeper. He wonders if this is just Merlin’s preference or if people really weren’t that interested in scented candles, but he thinks it’s the former. He hailed from some rich family whose name he hadn’t heard of before, and they’d gladly spend on Merlin’s extravagant ideas as long as it wasn’t too costly.

At the counter, a familiar face smiles gently at him, and Bedivere immediately regrets coming here. His body freezes and his mind blanks out. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, or why he even came here in the first place.

Why did he—

“I heard you were leaving the city.”

“I-I… I am. Yes.”

“You won’t be coming back? This isn’t a vacation?”

“It’s… not. I probably won’t come back. Ever.”

“Is that so… That’s a shame. I was hoping to invite you out with the others again, sometime! You know, there’s a nice place at—”

“T-That sounds lovely. But I’m just… Maybe a _different_ time.”

The same awkward tension lies in the room again with their silence. Bedivere still standing at the front door, Merlin still seated at the desk. Then, the white haired man stands up and strolls to a radio.

“You still have some time left, right? I can’t imagine you’d come visit me while rushing for the plane.”

“Y… Yes. But why?”

“Come here. Let’s finish what we started. Just one song.”

It’s the song from years ago. Merlin gestures his hand out, his smile as charming as ever, but Bedivere thinks that his eyes look a bit sad. It should be okay to indulge him this one time, right? Just once, for his whimsy. And maybe for some personal satisfaction, too.

Bedivere hesitantly grabbed Merlin’s hand and followed his lead. This time, they didn’t dance as wildly and happily as they did years ago. They simply swayed in place, holding each other, staying silent and listening to each other’s heartbeats. It feels like an eternity passed when the song finally ends, but even so, he doesn’t want to let go. This time, Merlin’s head is on his shoulder, and he feels something wet drip down. He still doesn’t let go—In fact, he grips onto him tighter.

It goes on like this. Goes on and on. Until Merlin finally pulls away and smiles.

“You should be leaving now, shouldn’t you? Well, shoo now! And don’t forget to bring souvenirs back when you come visiting!” Merlin laughs and jokes so easily, but Bedivere knows that the atmosphere is still sombre. They both know he won’t return, he won’t come bearing gifts, and they certainly won’t meet again for a long, long time. Even so, he returns the smile and leaves, waving.

He reluctantly shuts the store door. Stands there reluctantly. Feet cold and unmoving, sun setting behind him. He thinks he should go back in and say something, but it’s already too late. The opportunity flew past him, his plane is waiting for him, and time won’t wait. He walks back to his car.

It was November 4th.

And he thinks, perhaps, maybe—

_Maybe_ he shouldn’t have ran all those years ago.


End file.
